Unsteady
by npcron
Summary: [A Thomas Shelby love story.] — Loraine Wood is a new british baker who just moved to Small Heath with her family after her mother's early death. The naive girl want to keep up her mother's business with the bakery, but she needs the Shelby family approval to open it. — ThomasShelbyxOC / ThomasShelbyxGraceBurgess Chapter 5: Available!
1. In person, flesh, blood and broken bones

_Chapter 1 — in person, flesh, blood and broken bones  
_ **Philomena Milagros | peakyme**

They all agreed to leave London after Anna — the matriarch — died.

There was nothing else holding them — they closed her bakery and the father wasn't deeply fond with Anna's side of the family. Not quite sure why they've chose Birmingham, however; but all the grey landscape and all the dirty streets were quite consistent to their mood at the moment.

The new home was a ground and first floor apartment; August, the oldest brother, still trying to persuade Loraine to continue with mother's cooking skills by turning the ground floor into a kind of rather simple bakery. She was not excited at first, but the idea of decorating the small space with little memories of Anna changed her, so negative before, perception.

She used the old curtains to cover the front windows and hung one of the only pictures of her on the wall. Wasn't much, but it left the maternal flame of the family alive, somehow.

— When are we opening? — she asked father one time at dinner, not caring much on their talk about the Birmingham small arms company limited, where they worked.

— Have you spoke with the Shelby family? — the brunette rolled eyes while breathing heavily remembering all the twelve times she tried to schedule a meeting with this so called Shelby family who, apparently, ran everything at that shithole town.

— Do we really need their approval? — the oldest brother was firm to answer a yes.

She didn't get it. It had been about two months since they moved to Small Heath and she had never met the Shelby brothers. Loraine knew where they lived because eventually she found herself banging on their wooden door to get a meeting (always denied), but had not seen them. Heard rumors, only.

She was determined to open that bakery now — didn't want to at first, still resentful, but the challenge intrigued and kept her mind busy. Didn't agree with the idea of needing not only the approval of the Shelbys but also with paying them what they so called "for protection", but it seemed the only way.

One night the boys were out for a drinking night at some decadent bar and because of it father gave her money to go the Penny Crush cinema. It ended a bit late — she had to walk home alone at night. The streets were empty, had it not been for a couple in the gloom or men staggering out of bars, certainly drunk. Loraine tightened the overcoat against her body and stepped up as she crossed an alley that would take her home faster.

That's when an action caught her attention, unfortunately.

Could hear the sounds of punches and groans of pain. Low lighting didn't give a perfect view, yet wasn't sure she would like to see the scene completely. Didn't allow herself a dangerous approach hidden behind a parked vehicle. Two men held a third to keep him standing.

"Marco, take my name from his mouth." She quickly closed eyes when the knife was thrust into the man's mouth, disbelieving the scene in front of her.

She needed to do something.

Couldn't just let a man be killed in the middle of the street. Actually, she should let it. Father and brother would not approve her meddling into matters of mad men — those weren't matters for a lady. Luckily, she didn't believe to fit the adjective.

"...you fucking clown. My face will be the last thing you're going to ever see on Earth. Your mistake. Finish him off."

Loraine leaned into the parked car window and pressed the horn, without thinking twice. The loud sound broke the silence of the night, drawing unwanted attention. The men quickly got rid of the body, leaving the unknown man lying motionless on the ground. Dead? — she wondered.

She approached, still apprehensive, put her hand on his shoulder waiting for a reaction. Nothing. Had to get him out of that vulnerable spot as the men from earlier moments could return and finish the job.

Where was she getting herself into?

[...] The british girl couldn't just lay a barely alive man on her bed — she was not that bonkers — and deal with that, but she was grateful the men of the house weren't home.

Between leaving him bleeding in tub, fractured in the closet, or barely breathing under the bed she came to conclusion that the basement was most appropriate place. They were renovating the room — in the future would use it to stock flour for the bread; nevertheless, while the bakery didn't open they had only old chests from London, furniture yet not allocated and a sofa for a non-existent living room.

"They" put him on the dusty old green couch. Yes, "they". She and her not so adorable twelve year old brother, Joffrey. Loraine desperately needed an accomplice and he was available. Both had many questions, although the main concern was the lack of well-being of the stranger.

She knew how to recognize "couture" — basically anything other than the rags the Wood family wore —, in London she used to pass an opera on the way to mother's bakery; the clothes people wore were similar to the ones the man was wearing. Joffrey touched the gold yellow chain hanging from his vest revealing a gold pocket watch.

— Oh, dear God, don't touch it.

— Why not?

— Probably cursed.

From a distance they analyze his medical situation. His face was unrecognizable because of the size of swelling in one eye and amount of blood flowed from the other side.

— I don't honestly think he's going to mak-

— Don't say that! I'm gonna take care of him.

— Why are you helping a peaky blinder?

— Jesus Christ, Joffrey! I've told you already, eh? Not every men in this bloody city with weird hair cut is a peaky-whatever.

— Blinder! Peaky blinder. Girls...

— Fine, go upstair and bring me a clean towel, warm water, and dad's medicines.

Loraine sat on the edge of the couch, opened his waistcoat and buttons of the shirt, trying in vain to make him more comfortable. With the towel wet with warm water she wiped more or less the dry blood from his face, carefully, wondering constantly who was he, why they wanted him dead — and it didn't seem at the moment very smart to bring home a man whom somebody would like to see lifeless.

She waited, hoping he would wake up.

During the night he moved with difficulty, breathing slowly, making groans of pain only from the movement his chest made when breathing — his ribs were, at minimum, cracked. Those little sounds caught Loraine's attention, she approached him once again touching his face with her cold palm hand.

— Don't move, eh? — she smiled gently, imagining he would feel confused to look at an unknown woman next to him at this vulnerable condition — It's all fine.

He raised one of his eyebrows, the only one he could actually move, seeming to want to make an ironic face with her "it's fine" line. Nothing was fine for him.

— Ok, ok... Not fine at all. — she rectify and he tried to move his arms, but she stopped him — Don' t be stubborn.

— Who are you...? — with great difficulty he asked, his voice coming out in a tenuous tone, almost impossible to hear. You could tell he was on defensive.

— Lora. Here, drink this. — her father had some medicine stored in the drawer of a bedside table from which she stoled for this medical emergency. She then put the small bottle close to his mouth and helped him lightly lift his head to swallow it; it was a torment. He was in such pain.

— ...where...? — no need to be a detective to understand he was trying to figure it out where his expensive suit was lying down, probably noticing he was at a rather poor place.

— Listen, you're safe here. If you needed to be dead, you would already be, don't you think...? — she was being right-minded, yawning soon after by the fatigue from the restless night. Covered his body with a blanket without realizing that she was also caressing his forearm a bit more protected than she meanted — I have to go to bed. Tomorrow's a big day.

Nothing more was said. They were both exhausted.

[...] She waited for Bernard and August leave the house for work to go down the basement meet with her unknown guest. Not much changed from his injuries with one night, although he was conscious probably because of the small amount of remedy he consumed at daybreak decreasing a percentage of his pain.

Loraine entered the basement with a tray carrying a cup of tea and a loaf of bread as she approached the couch again to sit beside him. Today he seemed less anxious about the idea of staying at that unknown place, perhaps had come to the personal conclusion he was safe there from the men who had persecuted him night before. Also, the brunette did not look threatening at all. Far from it.

— 'Morning. — he looked at her as if analyzing slightest traits of her delicate face — I have some tea and bread, but I can't stay. I have a meeting with the Shelbys.

He nodded in acknowledgment, to show he was paying attention and she took advantage of the listener for a sincere outburst — Has been weeks since this snob called Thomas has no time for me... can you believe?

She seemed annoyed to mention him.

— No need to say one damn thing... The Shelbys, am I right? — He used sarcasm in his speech, purposely agreeing with her about the petulance of the dominant family in the city, yet without demonstrating that he himself carried that blood in his veins. Loraine didn't know that, because of her naiveté of new inhabitant and little malice in personality - perhaps too sweet for that garbage of city.

— Exactly! Who this family thinks they are? Royalty? Christ.

— Probably.

His voice was still fragmented, weak. There were no improvements in his physical conditioning becoming even more obvious that, that moment of consciousness, was due to medication. He needed a doctor — Where did you find me?

— Funny little story. — she began, as she grabbed one of the cups of tea brought in the tray, taking a generous sip to warm her body with hot liquid. He tried to change position on the couch, but Loraine stopped him like a mother who doesn't let her child do whatever it wants.

— Please, woman.

— You can call me Lora, mr stubborn. — she took a deep breath before continuing — I think someone was trying to kill you, to be quite honest. I wonder... what have you done? Who are you?

— As you just said... is indeed a funny little story.

— You're not telling me, are you? — he didn't answer — Fine, — Loraine got up, standing right beside him — at least you can hear speech for the Shelbys and tell me if it's good.

— With pleasure, miss. In fact, maybe I can help you with one or two tips with how to deal with this people. What do you need from them? — noticed that he felt a stab of pain a bit stronger in the chest, probably some difficulty to breathe.

— Should I reach someone of your family? I can't afford a doctor and you desperately need one.

— Let's see how this goes, right? Don't worry... Lora, eh? — she nodded — Lora... it sounds like a afternoon... a quiet afternoon, I must say.

The british girl allowed a small smile to appear, her cheeks turning slightly red with what appeared to be a compliment.

— So I heard that nothing runs in this city without this Shelby family approval.

— Indeed.

— I need that to begin with. Also, people say we pay them for protection and... well, money is a problem. — she sighed wearily — But I'm not bothering you with my problems today, eh? You should get some sleep.

— What about your speech?

— Would you like to hear it?

— Of course. I'll pretend I'm the devil Shelby in person, flesh, blood and broken bones, eh?

And certainly he was.

The sweet girl found the fact he would hear her stupid speech quite lovely and, for that, an open smile was seen in her lips. She did look quite shy in the beginning, but soon she got into character and pretended that he was indeed Thomas Shelby — Finally you made some time for me, mr Shelby.

Her tone was firm, nevertheless she didn't contain a low laugh soon after, due to the theatrical scene. He closed his only good eye partly out of fatigue and partly because wanted only to hear that dulcet voice and her mellifluent laughter — sincerely imagining would be the last thing to hear, since his condition was precarious. She did continue.

— I need your approval to open my lovely bakery and I'll give you two options. Option one, you give it to me. And option two, I will rip this approval out of your chest with my bare hands, you ugly snob royalty-wanna-be.

He tried to hold back a smile because the muscles in his face ached with movement — Quite cocky, don't you think?

— Well, I don't know if he's ugly, really. Snob royalty-wanna-be, yes. But ugly... It's gonna be a surprise.

Loraine approached him again placing her palm on his face now so hot and probably feverish, to leave a kiss on the top of his forehead, quite affectionate and indeed worried, preparing to leave the basement on the way to the Shelby house. — I'll let you rest.

He still had time to say one last sentence, before she climbed the stairs and left him behind.

— Oy. Good luck with them, Lora. You will need it, eh?

Yes, she would need to, because at the Shelbys house the relatives were dealing with the fact that Thomas Shelby had not returned home from his meeting with Campbell last night. They must have been looking for some witness who had seen him during the night, but failed miserably. Little did they know that Thomas himself was safe, but broken, in the hold of an unknown baker.

 _ **To be continued...  
**_ _

 **Author's note:**

It is my understanding that Thomas Shelby is brutally bruised by Sabini in this episode (2x01) and that, in fact, it might not be possible (without direct medical attention) that he could actually have a conversation with someone. However, in the name of fiction (after all this is a story) I decided that he is badly hurt, but with the possibility of a conversation.

Another thing to point out, it seems rather unlikely that someone would not know who Thomas Shelby is in Small Heath, but I tried to make it quite clear that the main girl is not from Birmingham and has recently moved. I thought that, because she was pretty much touched with the recent death of her mother, she has not paid much attention to her surroundings, so she is unaware of the Shelby brothers or their story.

Anyways, this is just a small taste of the story that it's to come. Definitely a novel, with some comical nibbles while exploring the ironic and sarcastic side of the characters, not as dramatic (at first) as the series itself is. Some changes had to be made in relation to the events, but I will try to keep myself as faithful as possible. If you are interested in contacting me, this is my twitter: peakyme


	2. Now we're even

_Chapter 2 — now we're even  
_ **Philomena Milagros | peakyme**

Loraine left him at home with a bitter heart — certainly didn't want it too. The concern for the stranger was such that she walked down the street toward the Shelbys' residence without actually paying attention to the tour. Wasn't naive enough to truly believe he would survive with only a sip of medicine, yet was optimistic enough to believe a solution would come soon enough.

She kept her way in direction to Watery Lane crossing the town to arrive at the Shelby parlour. The british was nervous, could feel her body physiologically respond with adverse sensations — sweaty palms, pounding heart, shortness of breath. It was not the first time she had tried to meet the family leader and was refused because apparently Thomas Shelby was too busy.

The brunette knocked on the door a few times. An older woman with long dark hair was the one who received her with a serious expression, yet a little curious probably waiting for the visit to be about the nephew's whereabouts.

— I have a meeting with Thomas Shelby.

The statement changed Polly Gray's facial expression to ice cold in milliseconds; it was just about one of Tommy's unfinished business before he disappeared — and this was not a good time to deal with it, with the family in a desperate search for the man.

— This is not a good time, child. — Pol tried to close the door, but was stopped by the small hand of the girl who pressed the wood door, not accepting to be shooed that way.

— Are you mrs Shelby? I need approval to open my business, mrs Shelby, please. — she looked into the woman's dark eyes, impenetrable.

Couldn't say exactly why the aunt had stared at her for so long as if analyzing all aspects of her as a person and deciding, mentally, what first impression she had made of it. Her lips were half open as if to say something, but the interruption came along with John Shelby who passed by the baker leaning close to Polly, able to whisper in her ear: "We have a lead. Someone saw something yesterday night. Let's go."

John still looked at the unknown brunette from top to bottom, but only — family interests that day would not involve dealing with other people's business.

— I will meet with you as soon as Thomas is back home.

That was all the older woman said before she closed the door and prevented the conversation from continuing. Lorena wanted to kick the door, bit angry, but contented herself by squeezing her coat, too thin to keep her properly warm, as she walked back home.

The only advantage was that she could use the free time to decide what would do with the bedridden stranger hidden in the cellar. She hurried into the house, down the basement stairs.

— You'll never belie- Oh, no no no...!

She was interrupted by the surprise of seeing him lying on the floor beside the sofa, as if had been trying to get up at some point. Loraine crouched beside the inert, unconscious body on the ground looking sideways as if there was possibility of screaming for help, even if she knew this, rationally, not to be the case. She wasn't stupid; he needed a doctor.

And she knew a man.

An italian doctor who had given medicine to her father in other occasions, but not because he was an altruist. He always had a price.

It was with much fear that she left the body of the stranger behind after enormous difficulty of setting him again on the couch, with no help. She sauntered down the gray streets of Small Heath, rather hurriedly, not greeting one or two passersby as she did so. Doctor Adam Lorenzetti lived in a good apartment even though for Loraine every street, even the best of Small Heath, smelled of horse shit and rot.

With permission to enter Mr. Lorenzetti's residence, Loraine hurried to ascertain the reason for the visit.

— I gave your father medication that should last for a month, miss Wood.

— I know, I know... I'm not here because of father, mr Lorenzetti. I actually need a consult.

He laughed mockingly. The deal the doctor had with the baker's father involved a story between them of many years ago that allowed the proletarian to have access to medicines at an affordable price. However, it did not cover medical appointments.

— Dear, — he began, quite condescending — I help your father because we do have a deal that goes way back in London... Grown men business, eh? For a consult, is a much higher price.

— I'll pay, then. — he arched both brows in genuine surprise.

— Oh, will you?

— Yes.

— With what, eh?

— With money, what else?

— I accept other payments as well, dear.

The doctor approached sneakily, the back of his hand caressing the young woman's jaw line, subtly malicious. Lora looked bothered, but rethinking the man who needed urgent care at her home she reconsidered the disgusting proposition.

— Mr Lorenzetti, please. I'll do anything. Just, please, come with me.

She knew that this debt would give her a good headache, but could see no other way out of the situation. The doctor gladly accompanied her, quite content with what would receive from the Wood girl when finished his part of the business (the emergency service), entering the shop and was already beginning to climb the stairs to the second floor when instructed to go down to the basement for which a confused expression appeared on his wrinkled old face.

— What have you been up to, miss Wood, eh?

Loraine hurried down the steps not waiting a second longer to deliver the man's unconscious body into the hands of the italian physician.

He still looked into the situation, somehow trying to figure out the setting that put them in those positions, failing to properly assemble the pieces of the jumbled puzzle.

— Will he live?

Adam approached Shelby, recognizing him instantly and exchanging glances with the girl — without realizing that she didn't seem to know who the person was. He looked subtly at the bruises on his face, ribs and even inside his mouth when noticed swelling in his cheek — Yes, but-

— Then do whatever you've got to do and I'll pay you when I see him walking through the front door.

— What-

— Oy! No questions, mr Lorenzetti. I will pay you and I'll pay you very well.

He seemed pleased with the proposal returning' to the car to retrieve his necessary medical equipment and taking care of the man according to what was agreed with the british.

The deal was fulfilled.

Doctor Adam took care of Thomas' wounds, and luckily his ribs were not broken, just cracked. The two top parts of his three-piece suit had to be removed during the process and Loraine seized the opportunity to wash it and all dried on the days he remained "hospitalized", still unconscious. Those were distressing days even though she was following the doctor's orders, deliberately prescribed. The ice on the swollen eye made it shrink, even though it had a red spot on the sclera.

She still needed, some nights, to make compresses of cold water to lower the fever that settled in the early days of the remedy - the body still adapting to the chance to survive.

It was a coincidence that, the morning the guest woke up, Lora was asleep in an old armchair right next to him.

His stupidly blue eyes opened slowly and he was greeted with a faint illumination of the place. He didn't dare get up, or even sit down, just moved his left arm slowly stretching out one of his hands and realizing that his vision was almost perfect. He closed and opened his hand one, two, three times, and as he looked around he saw his folded clothes on a chair facing the side of the sofa. He sighed, relieved.

Luck had smiled at him those days, no doubt.

Thomas then saw the sleeping girl next to him, noting the small table between the two with several bottles of medicine and concluded that Lora had gotten a doctor which made him ask, internally, where would she have taken money for such a claim.

Slowly, he sat up, careful not to force his ribs too hard on the move. In slow steps, went over to his folded clothes and reached for his pocket watch and cigarette case, lighting one which caused an indescribable sense of pleasure.

He could not make sense of the time spent in that cellar but hoped, for the sake of his unfinished business, that it wasn't too long. The brunette woke seconds after he started smoking, perhaps from the smell of smoke - which made her long for a cigarette.

— Good morning, Lora.

— You're up...

She stretched her back, the body aching for not have been tucked into a comfortable bed, a yawning before she scratched her tired eyes and then the blurry vision of a Thomas Shelby — still unknown — in much better conditions that the first meeting of both. That made her rise quite quickly, a smile on her lips that she could not contain, approaching him, analyzing his body with clinical eyes.

Her hands touched the bandage around his ribs, pulling it slightly to see if the skin was still too purple — there was some improvement.

— Well, it is a good morning, indeed. — she celebrated restrained, perhaps by the exhaustion and tension she wanted to improve with a cigarette — Should we smoke to celebrate?

Lora questioned, quite amused at the idea. First began to help him dress his three-piece suit, starting with the white shirt she had washed.

— I'm pretty sure you're planning to leave this shithole today already... Honestly, it's fine. I don't blame you, I mean...

The baker helped him to get dress, and in so doing concluded for sure, by the quality of material of clothing, that man was not a simple proletarian.

— I intend to go, but not on account of the place or you. Believe me, Lora, I've been in much worse places then here. But I do have business to settle.

Loraine blew the smoke up, resembling everything he was saying.

— And are you telling me your name?

— Didn't we agree I would be Thomas Shelby in person, flesh, blood and broken bones?

She laughed in a sweet way, a kind of laughter he hadn't heard for a long time.

— No broken bones. — she corrected it, accepting (assuming) that the unknown man had no interest in telling his identity — If you were really "the" Thomas Shelby I admit it would be terribly hard to hate you with those blue eyes of yours.

Thomas let a small smile show on the corner of his mouth — But fine. You're Thomas Shelby and I'm lady Lora, then. Oh! Talking about the devil... I have news.

He was closing the vest buttons and she stood promptly to helping him with the task while still speaking.

— The Shelbys ditched me again.

— I can't believe in this people... We rehearsed! This gang, honestly, eh?

For him, secretly, all that talk was a great satire. The idea of needing to accompany her in that negative discourse about his own family was at least ironic, but he found it quite comical too. He wondered what Pol would say when he told her this story. For now, he would continue with the condescending speech.

— Oh, leave it be. They'll never give me anything. I mean... Look at me.

The british girl finished closing buttons and stared at him finally taking time to notice the beautiful blueness of his eyes, so different from her almond-shaped eyes. Thomas noticed that Lora had unruly curls, wore a greenish heavy cloth dress. The features of her face, on the other hand, were delicate, combined with a few freckles on the top of cheeks./

— Would you give anything?

— What do you need, Lora? — sometimes Thomas thought it was absurd that she didn't know who he really was, but at other times the situation seemed quite favorable to him because of this peculiar fact — If there's anything I can do for you... Name it.

The blinder took a few strands of hair that were falling through the girl's eyes, but she said nothing and he sighed.

— Here. — Shelby took the money from his pocket and held out the bills to the baker — Six pounds... Should be enough. Buy something nice... a beautiful dress, a fine hat... and go have your meeting with this Thomas. With nice clothes maybe they'll show more respect for you and your business.

— I-I don't know... are you sure? — seemed afraid to accept the money, her naive look sought his again, so cold, and which paradoxically made her heart cherish almost as if she knew he was capable of providing protection, and that if he did, no one would ever touch her.

— I'll pay you back, I promise.

— You've already paid me, lady Lora.

It was just a child's play when Lora suggested that he called her that way (a lady), but confessed that she liked the sound coming out his mouth. They walked toward the basement stairs.

— Do you know who did this to you?

— Yeah, I know, and is exactly the reason why I have to go.

— I guess this is good-bye...

— I'm afraid it is.

— I will try to meet with the Shelbys friday afternoon. — but they stopped before starting to climb. Loraine ran her small hands through his suit, dismantling the garment lightly — And you... try not to get killed... again.

She stood on tiptoe to be able to kiss his jaw, tender, followed by a rather charming smile.

— Rest your heart, woman. Nothing is going to happen, eh?

Before could retrace their steps, they were surprised by the sudden presence of Loraine's younger brother, Joffrey, who quickly came upon Thomas Shelby, curious with his now conscious presence.

— Are you a peaky blinder, sir?

— Joffrey. Not again with this. I've told you, not every rich men is a Shelby. He wants to work for the Shelbys one day... unbelievable, right?

Lorena asserted — erroneously — that not every rich man who walked around was a Shelby and Thomas was a false moralist when he agreed with the brunette trying to hide his natural sarcastic tone as much as possible, beginning to get accustomed to the idea of not being recognized.

— Unbelievable. Stay away from these people, Joffrey.

— But I already have a cap!

The man had an air of laughter at the boy's statement, then took the boy's hat for a second analyzing it, groping.

— The razors are missing, boy.

He said in a playful tone, eventually getting a look of censure from the boy's older sister without really minding.

— Shall we, boys?

Joffrey hurried in front of the couple, rushing steps leaving them behind. Thomas let Loraine pass by, cordially.

— You know, lady Lorena... — he got her attention, making her park on a step where he did the same. The small space that accommodated the two allowed a cozy approach — I think I haven't thank you properly.

His right hand rested on the back of her neck briefly, bringing his face even closer and he took the advantage to stared at her thin, rosy lips for a mere fraction of seconds before kissing her jaw in a similar spot to where she had did it before, on him.

— Now we're even.

He spoke so quietly would be practically inaudible if not for their closeness. For a second before the action, the girl closed her eyes allowing 'touch' to be the sharpest sense when the man's mouth touched her skin. Certainly she had blushed; her lower lip was bitten when shyness invaded her completely. Thomas admired the baker one last time, intrigued by those eyes that looked at him so differently from other people — Loraine didn't see him like the others because she didn't know him and, strangely enough, Thomas appreciated that.

The corner of Shelby's lip curled into a tiny smile before he continued up the basement stairs leaving the british behind, catatonic with the action that had just taken place. He didn't wait for her to return from the trance, because urgently needed to go home to solve the problems of his own disappearance, walking down the street at the speed his pain allowed, people going out of the way the moment they recognized the Shelby.

Joffrey went back down stairs to meet his sister waking her up from the trance with his hyperactive arrival, holding the beret in hands.

— Oy, where can I find razors?

 _ **To be continued...  
**_ _

 **Author's note:**

Here's chapter 2, I honestly hope you guys like it. I'm having so much fun writing this down! As you all noted I didn't specify how much time Thomas was unconscious at the baker's basement, but I made it clear it was a few days - I'm no doctor, but I guess would take some time to get better from everything he went trough. Of course I chose for him to not break any bones, because it's easier that way for him to get better and we continue all the action. The doctor is clearly an antagonist as you all saw, he's appearing soon enough to collect his debt, but I won't say anything else. lul Love you all, xx.


	3. Give me my bakery

_Chapter 3 — give me my bakery  
_ **Philomena Milagros | peakyme**

— POLLY! POL! POLLEY!

John shouted from downstairs quickly getting the full attention of Polly Gray who woke up immediately to answer the call. Ada and little Karl were also attentive. She left the room as fast as she could going down the stairs to meet him.

— WHAT IS IT?

— IT'S TOMMY!

— God, what happened to him?!

When she arrived the living-room, her dark eyes blinking several times surprised at what she was seeing in front of her, heart racing as John had that crooked smile on his face.

— It's Tommy, Polly.

— Oh, thank God! — she thanked, embracing the then-missing Thomas Shelby who just returned home and had a sly grin on his face as if waiting for her reaction — WHERE IN THE FUCKIN' HELL WHERE YOU HIDDEN, THOMAS MICHAEL SHELBY?

— In a basement, Pol. — he replied only, hugging his aunt still amazed at his presence in a mix of happiness, confusion and fury — We have business to solve.

— You bet we have. — she added, possessed by genuine anger over who had done that to her family. Or better, attempted to.

Loraine still had a few days until friday when she would try (again) a new meeting with the Shelbys that would take her, if the end was positive, to start her small business in the city, giving her enough time to use the six pounds earned from the unknown man in the right way.

The baker was dealing with a series of distress in her mind that, mismanaged, led to a high degree of anxiety. Would follow the advice of the man who she had taken care of, about getting a good piece of clothing for the meeting imagining that it would increase the likelihood of being taken seriously and less confused with a poor woman — even though she really fit into that stereotype in such a way that when she passed the streets seeing the windows of the highest class clothes, she couldn't quite imagine herself using any of them.

To wear those clothes, in her conception, would be like living a very pathetic utopian moment. A Wood being an aristocrat? Never.

Saddened by her degradative thoughts, she gave up buying and swung her heels to retrace her steps home when noticed two men in standing out clothing on the other side of the street — the fine quality of the perfect overcoat and the noteworthy combination of three-piece suits. They walked fast and had no problem with other people on the street because they gave way to them, in a behavior that seemed almost innate, a simple rule that plebeians followed without questioning, perhaps even secretly frightened.

One of them, John Shelby, turning his face around to get rid of the old cigarette noticed Loraine across the street, yet he didn't seem to recognize her from days ago when he interrupted her conversation with Polly Gray to inform his aunt of the new information he had about his brother. They disappeared just around the corner at the end of the street.

Near Lorraine, two workers passed by her in no hurry to walk, talking quietly.

— Haven't you heard, eh? Thomas Shelby is back.

— Where was the bastard, then?

— No one knows, mate. Word say... he died.

— Died? But how come he is back then?

— He made a deal with the devil, that's how.

The brunette listened to the conversation that ended with a series of hoarse laughter from excessive smoking and then rethought her strategy — it was of utmost importance that she was presentable to the Shelbys, after all, it could be her last chance with a plausible plan to impress them and get her authorization for the family business. She glanced at the shop window one last time considering to piece together luxuries that still had a touch of her personality on them.

She gave up on giving up.

Another set of days passed until the time of meeting arrived reserved for a gray and cold late afternoon. To woo them, the british baked some loaves and it was Joffrey who carried them in a wooden basket lined with a white cloth, the delicious and unique smell being emanated by still warm food.

Obviously the youngest of the Wood was quite anxious about the idea of knowing the Peaky Blinders parlour, men whom he admired, and this was notable from the peculiar way he was dressed in a three-piece suit certainly made of some heavier fabric and, of course, the beret. Also had a poor imitation of a pocket watch that was nothing more than a stone wrapped in a string. A child of fertile imagination.

Loraine, in the other hand, had dispensed her heavy dresses; wore two pieces of soft, fine fabric — an impeccably white shirt and a skirt taped at the waist by a delicate stripe, both in shades of blue (perhaps unconsciously inspired by someone's eyes?). Her hair, long and curly, was tied in a delicate braid that fell on one shoulder and the top of her head was adorned with a hat - part of which she wasn't much of a fan.

She knocked on the wooden door being greeted by a young woman like her.

— I came to s-

— I know why you came for.

Ada let them in as she took a step beside allowing the two of them to pass, Joffrey up ahead, carrying the small basket of bread. A french colony would be for another occasion, Loraine still smelling of freshly baked bread, without make-up on the soft-cheeked face — one cheek slightly soiled with flour.

Inside the house see undid her coat and hung it on her forearm. Joffrey offered one of the small breads, purpose-built to serve as appetizers, to the woman who opened the door, as she accepted, taking soon advantage of his sister's mesmerized look at decorating dishes on a shelf, digging through the keyhole of another door, much curious.

As soon as Lora realized, she went to meet the younger one, kneeling in front to censor him in a low but steady voice.

— Oy! Do not touch anything here, you hear me?

— But, Lora, I'm a peaky blinder.

— Oh, are you? Since when, mister?

— Since I have a cap. And a pocket watch.

She held the laughter with the child's imagination, rolling her eyes, this happening in the quick minutes Ada left them alone to tell her brother that the Wood girl had arrived, returning in the same speed to invite them to go to Thomas's office.

— Those... — she pointed to the small piece of bread still on her hand — ...are delicious.

— I'm glad you like it.

The young Shelby still accompanied the Wood brothers to the room where Thomas was near one of the windows behind the large wooden table. The rest of the serious decoration easily translating that space as his office.

— I see you bought the hat I've told you about.

He commented without turning to face her knowing about her clothes because he had seen the girl arrive from the window, very observant. Even with Thomas with his body slightly turned away from her the brunette recognized the Birmingham's strong accent and in time she also recognized his silhouette and pattern of clothing. She petrified, took the mind a millisecond to piece together the puzzle.

Her unknown-basement-man was Thomas Shelby.

Loraine had a half-open mouth through which oxygen came in and out off the usual compass. In an uneven calm, the Shelby turned his face toward the baker, his blue eyes allowing to meet her almond-shaped eyes, which reflected her anger at him at the moment. As previously agreed, Joffrey began to approach Tommy's table to deliver one of his sister's baked goods, as courtesy, but was prevented by the same one who took the basket of his hand, away from the blinder.

— Oh, but no. No! He's not eating any of my bread! This... This... This liar! — she shouted, returning the basket to the child's hands, walking very fearlessly toward the family leader's table — Did you have your fun?

— Actually, I did, yes.

— I knew he was a blinder, see?

— Joffrey, this is not the time to prove a point.

— But-

— Not now!

Thomas walked away from the window back to the desk, leaning his body slightly in the direction of the visibly irritated girl in front of him, which was notable for the hard expression on her face. He lifted his hand to bring his thumb closer to her cheek and took out a gulp of flour.

— I take it you're a baker, eh?

— I take it you're a liar.

— What brings you to a liar?

Cynical, as if he didn't know what the visit was about, picking up his body again and looking for his cigarette case to get one. Joffrey had left the office as soon as his sister had risen her tone, waiting for the reunion to be over with Ada at the other room. Loraine walked around the table to stand in front of Thomas. Her doll shoes, even with the small heel, didn't allow her to be as tall as he was, and yet she didn't seem scared by his presence, which he found naive and lovely in that crazy unknown girl.

— Give me my bakery, Thomas Shelby.

Her cheeks were red with anger, eyes fixed on his without actually appreciating the beauty of it because the mind could only think about a painful way to end his life at that moment. She took the hat off her head — eventually dislodging a few strands of curly hair but not carrying' — and used the piece to hit him in the chest, however didn't seem to intend to hurt him in doing so; was just venting the contained stress.

— I want a written permission that I can have my bakery, also I won't pay a thing to the peaky blinders for it and here'S YOUR STUPID FUCKIN' HAT!

The girl threw her hat on Thomas's table before stepping away from him, walking to the window seeming to glance at the movement on the street, but in fact she was too distracted for it, arms folded defensively, not bothering to look at his face anymore.

He smoked his cigarette and then held her hat analyzing the piece meticulously, unaffected by the baker's drama even using some unpretentious sarcasm in his tone of voice, as usual.

— You do have good taste, you know? For hats.

— Could you stop with that crap hat story!? I look ridiculous and it's your damn fault!

A sigh came from him, just before he put out his cigarette (not even halfway smoked) then approaching Loraine at the window. Tommy touched her chin with his thumb and forefinger, forcing her to stare at him — mad or not.

— Who said you look ridiculous, eh?

Forced to face the blinder, she caught herself admiring the features that were previously unanalyzable due to the bruises now healed. The look (accidentally, she would say) dropped from the eyes to his thin lips and then to the impeccable suit.

By then had already lost the line of thought she was going to use as an argument.

— You look absolutely adorable for a lady.

— Don't you get tired of lying?

Thomas didn't reply, just let go of Lora's chin and took a deep breath before continuing to speak.

— I'll give you permission to open your bakery, Lora, and five months to settle things down before start to pay for protection.

She froze for a moment, discredited that she had obtained the endorsement of the Shelby family. Her small hand stopped in front of her mouth in a clear expression of surprise.

— W-What? Will you...? Really...?

Her face, so hard and expressionless before, gradually changed like ice slowly melting in the presence of heat, her lips wanting to twist into a timid smile, which was prevent with a soft bite on the lower lip.

She wanted to control her emotions, but it was impossible especially to think of the memory of the mother who could now keep on with the possibility of putting the bakery to work. It was in this lack of emotional control that Loraine found herself close to Thomas, tiptoeing, her arms wrapping around his neck while her icy face was hidden in the curve of his neck - all in a loving (for her) dysfunctional (for him) hug.

Loraine pulled her face away so that she could stare at him one last time, her cute smile no longer being hidden.

— Thank you, snob.

In real time, they might have stayed in that position — he sort of automatically resting his strong hands on her waist — for five seconds; but it seemed much more. The girl's heart almost jumped out of her chest, however, they were brutally interrupted by Polly Gray's unannounced entrance scaring Loraine that she released Thomas instantly. The older woman wasn't bothered by the scene, simply leaving the documents on her nephew's desk.

— It's not what you're thinking, really...

She wanted to correct the meaning of the situation, somehow, probably because of her good girl's principles, making Tommy unable to restrain a malicious smile with that chaste manner of her.

— You have no idea what I'm thinking, child. — Pol replied, before walking out of the room leaving the door slightly open.

Although Loraine's cheeks were adorably reddish, Thomas didn't mind the interruption, even sat in his chair and invited the brunette to sit in front of him.

— So we have a deal, lady Lora?

— Yes, definitely. When are you giving me my papers?

— I'll take them to your bakery.

Was going to agree with the plan, but they were interrupted again this time by the boy, Joffrey, who was entering the office through the crack in the open door.

— May I speak with mr Shelby for a minute?

— Joffrey, forget it... you'll not join the peaky blinders.

— I think you should let Tommy Shelby decide, Lora, he's the leader after all.

While Loraine seemed to have little patience for her younger brother's speech, Thomas seemed amused by the little creature dressed as a blinder in front of him.

— You're still young to join forces with us, mate. Come back here in five years, ey?

The boy smiled rather victoriously at Tommy's information, in his mind there would always be a vacancy for Joffrey in the criminal organization — he just had to wait.

— I hope you're joking...

She commented with an air of reproach, and Thomas nodded to her confirming this was all a show for the boy to be happy.

But it was not.

Fearless young boys like that, in time, could be useful to the peaky blinders — she didn't have to know that now.

— So can I taste the bread now?

Tommy pointed to the basket of breads Joffrey was carrying, the younger one handed to his sister and Loraine set the basket on the table of the leader who reached for a piece.

— I guess my bread is your bread now, mr Shelby. Be my guest.

And it was delicious bread, soft and still warm. And it was delicious bread, soft and still warm, not like the other bakeries he knew in the area. She had talent.

— Look, Lora-

— You didn't like it? — she interrupted him, worried.

— May I finish? As I was saying... Thank you. Everyone in this family knows that if I'm standing in this office today, is because of you. All of us appreciate the gesture. So, allowing the bakery to open is the least I can do.

— I would do everything again if I had to, mr Shelby.

They exchanged glances — Thomas wondering why she would do it all over again now knowing who he was —, but the third interruption of the afternoon occurred with John and Arthur, who entered the room, pushing the door brutally wide open.

— What's going on!?

— The Garrison, Tommy.

One of them pulling out the gun and counting how many bullets were inside. Thomas already standing ready to leave and Joffrey's sister pulling him close, covering the boy's curious eyes to not watch that whole action.

— Some cock suckers exploded the Garrison, Tommy! Let's get them!

— Oh, fuck...

Shelby himself withdrew his weapon from his holster so he could accompany his brothers, but not before briefly saying good-bye to the Wood's visit.

— I'll see you two at the bakery.

— But you don't know the address! — she argued ingenuously and he let himself smile with her singular way of not knowing him.

— Says who? — he answered before disappearing through the office door, following the other men on the new mission and leaving Loraine and Joffrey to return home with the promise of a visit in another time.

The british returned home with a faint heart for having obtained the authorization to open the family business, while a small doubt troubled her as to the visit of Thomas who, in her misconception, didn't even know the address of the place. Her naiveté didn't allow her to be aware he could discover any information about her or the bakery in a matter of hours.

The next few days were quite tiring for the girl, buying a series of necessary ingredients, storing the basement to become a stock of flour, cleaning the counter, the wooden baskets and arranging a decoration, even if simple, to the place — a small vase of flowers withered in a corner, a picture on the wall — the money was small, had to improvise making the atmosphere cozy and familiar to welcome the new clientele.

Joffrey helped by customizing a sign outside the shop announcing the opening day of the bakery that morning. The characteristic smell of the warm loaves permeated the air and attracted the attention of the hungry proletariat.

— Did you invite Thomas Shelby for the opening?

— I'm sure he has more important things to do.

— Like... killing people?

He was fixated on this murder idea after the scene of the Shelby brothers armed in the office and, in his creative and childish mind, created thousands of scenarios involving the death of the blinders' enemies by their hands — Joffrey!

— I said it, but you thought it.

— Christ.

Loraine was quite certain that none of the Shelbys would bother to cross the city for the opening of something as poor as that place; nor Thomas who had promised a visit days ago, but until today, nothing.

At least the residents of the area were graced with the sweet presence of the Wood girl. Her rebellious curls were tied back, protected by a white kitchen-cap. The pastel-colored dress with a small apron tied at the waist.

Joffrey stood outside, shouting:

— THE REAL LONDON BREAD! EAT AND SEE!

The Wood family were new to Birmingham, but already known for being cordial and, a lovely woman as Lora, would have no problem getting customers drawn by yummy scent and the her naive almondy eyes.

She attracted even unwanted customers.

Lorenzetti, the doctor for whom Loraine owed an absurd amount of money, came to pay her a visit when found out about the opening of her brand new business.

He walked in without too much haste, his hands behind him, admiring the little decor and enjoying the delicious aroma of her baking.

— Glad you opened your business, dear.

He said with no enthusiasm in his voice, just wanting the girl's attention and when noticed his presence smiled as she wiped her hands with flour on her apron, trying to hide the anguish of knowing why the doctor's visit.

— Bread?

— Oh, we both know that's not what I want to eat.

The man's wicked grin made her stomach turn in response. The store was empty and he took advantage of it to make an incisive approach, walking toward the girl as a predator surrounding his defenseless prey and amusing himself with it. Unconsciously, the brunette stepped backward, her body stopping against the wall, limiting her chances of fleeing and allowing the doctor's robust body to press hers, so small and fragile.

— Please, not here...

She begged and he liked the plea, but wasn't going to comply. Lora refused to look into his eyes, averting her face in disgust as the man's heavy hand stroked her cheek in a quick caress.

— Doctor Lorenzetti, I'll pa-

She was interrupted and silenced by a slap on the face that made her bring her own hand in the reddish, hot and aching region.

— I'll come to collect what you owe me, miss Wood, and the next time you'll give it all to me with no fucking crying and no fucking talking.

The almond-shaped eyes mottled with the pain of the slap and a shallow cut that the ring on the doctor's finger made on the top of her cheek, soiling the thin fingertips with a trickle of blood. That was a warning that the next time would not be a simple charge, but really the debt payment.

She forbade herself to cry as he didn't delay to leave, establishing his dominance at the place, certainly amused to see her trembling and unprotected after the shock of being beaten.

Nothing more was said.

The message was clear enough. Adam Lorenzetti left the store carrying a loaf of bread with him, greeting Joffrey on outside as he walked to the car, unconcerned and aware that no one had noticed his actions, leaving behind a bruised and tearful Loraine.

A couple walked into the store a few minutes later forcing her to compose quickly, running the sleeve of the dress on the bruised area of the cheek to wipe the blood even though was noticeable because of the reddish region.

She smiled, was cordial and lovely, and no one commented. The day passed it by.

Was mentally considering arranging all the money for Adam's medical appointment to offer him rather than paying with purely carnal action, imagining that he could accept her offer. For other women, maybe a dirty night with a man in exchange for favors would be easy, but the brunette was still a virgin — and it was a condition she would like to maintain.

— I see you got your permission from the snob Thomas Shelby to open your bakery, eh?

She would recognize that voice and accent anywhere, turning herself to prove that Thomas Shelby paid a visit on the opening day of her bakery which made her smile in a very lovely, timid way and he liked the peace that smile brought to him.

 _ **To be continued...  
**_ _

 **Author's note:**

A little bit bigger chapter, but I hope you guys like it. This one was to show how much Adam is dangerous and toxic to Loraine's life and how this debt needs to be settled as soon as possible or ... No spoilers! I also wanted to show that there is tremendous gratitude on Thomas's part for the girl saving his life, as well as being intrigued by her aerial way of never knowing anything. Very different from the people with whom he lives... The next chapter has more interaction with lovely Thomas and the unfolding of this evil debt. See ya, x.


	4. Shall we?

_Chapter 4 — shall we?  
_ **Philomena Milagros | peakyme**

— I see you got your permission from the snob Thomas Shelby to open your bakery, eh?

She would recognize that voice and accent anywhere, turning herself to prove that Thomas Shelby paid a visit on the opening day of her bakery which made her smile in a very lovely, timid way and he liked the peace that smile brought to him.

— You know what they say out there, no one can resist a lady's request. Not even a Shelby.

A spontaneous laugh escaped her mouth as she wiped her delicate hands on the white apron.

He approached the counter where she was, taking the beret off so he could see her better, noticing the simple decor of the place during that quick walk, the scent of bread seducing him. Admired the delicate features of Lorena's face once again as they drew closer, some rebellious curls escaping from the bun and molding her face, but wasn't that what caught his eye — obviously noticed the bruised area on the girl's cheek, but he restrained himself from saying anything, for now.

— Nobody. — Tommy agreed, taking a few coins from his pocket to pay a buttered bread he intended to take to the Shelby's residence, but the londoner quickly shook her head in denial, rejecting payment.

— I have something special for you, mr Shelby.

Lora stepped away only to go to the oven and, with her hand protected by a thick cloth, removed a new batch of bread. This was special, made with gypsy honey, full of spices. The pleasant scent permeated between the two while she sliced a single piece, then cut it into small square pieces, ready for tasting. Thomas just watched her, one eyebrow arched, curious what the girl was up to.

With a single piece in hand, the brunette approached Thomas as she walked around the counter and stood in front of him. She held the piece close to the man's mouth.

— Try it.

He allowed himself to eat the bread without being able to look away from her.

— Is it good? — she asked, quite curious.

— Was it your grandmother who taught you that conquering people by the stomach was the easy way?

— Why? Did I conquer you?

Thomas wanted to smile at the idea that he could, in fact, be won over by that singular girl, finishing chewing the delicious piece of bread. He gave little importance to the question, even though knew in his mind what the true answer was.

Shelby brought his hand up to her face, the thick fingers touching the reddish region, his gaze scanning the recent surface cut.

— It tastes great, but while we're here...

The blinder took a minimal step forward only to break any possible space between them, the height difference now even more pronounced with the low stature girl raising her chin to be able to look at him. The baker lost herself in his eyes for a few seconds — how could they be so blue? And, unlike the sea, so impenetrable?

She felt the, almost innate, willingness to plunge into the ocean of his eyes, and when that thought made her feel like she escaped her holy personality (as the virgin she was), she automatically closed her eyes as Thomas brought one hand up to her bruised cheek, his fingers touching the reddish region.

— ...who did this to you?

Had no intention of letting him know the truth because didn't want to infiltrate him into that problem that, of course, she believed had created for herself and therefore wanted to find a solution independently.

— This?

Lora touched the bruised region, cynical, swiftly turning her body toward the workbench to keep Thomas from looking at her remarkable expressions of lies.

— It's nothing. I fell... So clumsy, eh?

Sliced the loaf again to keep herself occupied and less focused on Shelby's presence.

— Why did you come here today, mr Shelby? You're a busy man... Nostalgia? — used a mild sarcasm which he ignored now that was possibly annoyed with the idea that Loraine didn't tell him the truth about the recent bruise, and he was interested to know.

She wasn't a good liar, even.

— I came to invite you to the Garrison re-opening, tomorrow night, however I do have to go. As you say, I'm a busy man.

Tommy approached the bench where the girl had cut the new slices of bread and put them all in a brown bag, intending to take it.

— I hope to see you there, Lora.

She didn't say anything, perhaps surprised at the invitation, or because imagined even in the unconscious that he knew the truth about her injury (which bothered her), but nodded, confirming her presence at the party.

Thomas put on his beret again, and with a small bow he said goodbye to the girl, colder than she expected.

— Good afternoon.

Without further ado, the blinder turned its back on the woman and retraced path for the door to leave the place behind. Loraine quickly leaned against one of the windows, pulling back the curtain to see him set out on the Parish horse that had been left for Joffrey to care, for whom he handed the unused shillings.

— Damn you, mr Shelby...

Didn't know very clearly how much his concern and indifference about her well-being was, it seemed a thin line between the two perceptions; Tommy was so difficult to read. She knew that she had confirmed presence at the event, but was re-considering whether she should go, full of minute doubts.

He had bothered to invite her after all. Yet she needed a dress.

[...] Thomas eventually impregnated the entire Shelby's house with the scent of gypsy gingerbread made by the young Wood secretly finding it delicious because it reminded him of the loaves brought by his mother — long time ago. Tea for the early evening seemed right to the man, the bag of bread being left in the kitchen, and he went upstairs to the room where some letters were waiting to be read on his desk. He held some of them in his hands, mentally jotting down the addresses.

New York.

He carried the specific letter to the bathroom and slipped into the hot tub, cigarette in one hand and paper in another.

Grace.

There was a strong desire to forget her, so he did not open the letter but let the tip of the cigarette touch it and begin to destroy evidence. He wanted to use all the power he had to get her out of his mind; the sense of stupidity filling him up because he had not been able to see all the blonde's plots. It made him wonder when he could trust another woman — if that would ever be possible again.

Tommy drank his tea and then lay down and slept in not so deep sleep as the mind was filled with inner, unconscious, but existing conflicts. She woke up in the morning looking in the kitchen for the gypsy buns, a desire to try them again. I could not find the bag anywhere.

— Finn. — no answer — OY, FINN.

— Yes, Tommy?

— Where's the bread I left here last night? Finn?

— I ... I ... ah. I ate some, the smell was so good... honey and cinnamon... I like it, Tommy.

— And where's the rest of it?

— Fine... I ate them all. And I do not regret it.

— Get out of my way, boy.

Replied the older man to finish the conversation, finding the attitude of his younger brother, in secret, quite lovely already wondering where the other relatives would be because he needed the other brothers to trim their hair, to look nice for the evening event.

The trio was soon on the street, walking to the barber, passing by accident in front of the Wood bakery. Thomas drew the brothers' attention to an issue still pending.

— John, Arthur. Keep an eye on the bakery for me. The Wood girl saved my life, but something is not right there. Someone hit her and I don't have any information on it. Keep an eye out and update me.

— All right, Tommy. If anyone's messing with the girl, we'll know.

The boys took advantage to take a quick look at the place from the outside. Arthur continued to frown, but commented:

— Smells good.

— You need to taste it. — John laughed.

— Oh, and have you? — the question was filled with malice and it was no longer known whether they spoke of bread or girl.

— You little shit, nothing goes unnoticed, eh?

[...] On the evening of the day she received the visit of Thomas Shelby at the bakery, Loraine also prepared dinner (as on all other nights, as the men arrived tired of their respective labors). Joffrey helped her set the table and Lora cooked a very tasty stew, given the monetary circumstances.

— ...but soon Joffrey will be working with us at the factory, eh?

Bernard, the father, made the comment with great pride, but Joffrey did not look like the same enthusiasm as the patriarch.

— No, I want to be a peaky blinder.

Lora, Bernard e August stood still watching the boy continue to take his soup, as if the comment wasn't inappropriate but completely acceptable and normal.

— A peaky blinder? That's unlikely, son.

— Why?

— They're not honorable men. I wouldn't want any of my children messing with the peaky blinders, that's alright.

The youngest, who already had other perks denied just for being the youngest, seemed to care no more about that impediment, but Loraine stood up for him

— I guess... when he's older, he'll be able to do whatever pleases him most.

— Are you supporting this mad decision of this foolish child, Loraine?

— No at all. — she looked at her brother touching him on the shoulder — Joffrey, working with, or for, the peaky blinders is dangerous and will probably get you killed before you turn 18. — coming back to look at his father — But, I don't think they aren't honorable men.

— You're a woman, Lora, you know nothing about life and it's dangers.

August seemed not to be interested in participating that conversation, having little or none interest in the blinders, and believing the story to be a fertile moment in his younger brother's mind.

— Lora, tomorrow Parker will be having dinner with us. Can you make pork?

— Tomorrow night I won't be home, sorry. It's the re-opening of the Garrison.

— The Garrison? That's no place for a lady.

— Fortunately, I'm not a lady.

— You know damn well what your brother is talking about, Loraine. It's time for you to meet a honorable man now. Do you, in your good sensible mind, think you'll find a good man at the Garrison?

— Maybe she will find Tho- Ouch!

Little Joffrey tried to intrude on irrelevant information about Thomas Shelby, but was silenced by a quick reflection of Loraine who kicked him under the table.

— What I think is that I'm not looking for a man.

— Oh, but you should. Or you'll end up as your aunt Layla... Alone in big London with ten cats waiting for tuberculosis to strike in.

— Father.

— People will start to talk, you know.

— That's enough.

Without the patience to continue coping with the patriarchy at that table, Lora left them behind to retreat to her lodgings, alone, and lying in bed she had enough time to consider Thomas's invitation. The pounds he had given her in the basement had a spare change from last purchase of clothes, and a dress would suit her very well.

Luckily, she found the perfect dress for the occasion.

The store marketer helped her with the choice, but there was no question about the red tone of the garment. The typical cut of the 1920s party dresses, the black gloves that went up all over the forearm, the pearl necklace and a delicate adornment in her long loose hair, full of curls.

Even the dress having a sexy air, when combined with the innate delicacy of the british, the meaning was different. The face without makeup didn't allow any malice to show. The numerous freckles on the cheek gave her a lovely air when combined with her large, almond-shaped eyes. The cut on her cheek was no longer so prominent, but noticeable.

Going to the bar, she covered her body with a black overcoat and kept it closed all the way down the not-so-safe streets of Small Heath. The cold night of autumn began with a chill wind that chastised the least protected.

In time she was already entering the place, the restlessness of heart palpitations bothering with the high level of anxiety when believing that she did not belong in that event.

She wasn't even aware the new decoration of the place, nor did remember the previous one, but the atmosphere was welcoming for those who always frequented it. There was music and a lot of luxury. Took off her coat and hung it up as realized that it was no longer so cold in there, then walked without haste searching for a single face known before being approached by a man.

— Never saw your face around here...

Loraine half-opened her lips at the thought of an answer to the unknown guy (even if there was nothing in mind at the moment), but it wasn't necessary. Thomas Shelby's objective approach toward them both repelled the boy's presence immediately, driven away by the idea that he was talking to a girl who was in the best interests of the blinders' leader. He quickly gave up on the brunette and didn't hesitate to disappear between the other guests.

— I see you accepted the invitation, lady Lora.

— How couldn't I, mr Shelby?

— You look...

He took some time to admire her closely, glancing down the length of her body, looking back at her again.

— ...exquisitely beautiful, I'm impressed.

— Stop it... Look at you. Did you cut your hair?

— Yes, it was the first thing I did with my brothers her morning. Moments like these are rare.

— You do look quite different from the night we met.

— Better, I hope.

— Well, there are controversies.

She joked, clearly, because Tommy was in the last degree of elegance allowed. His three-piece suits were always impeccable, but today she still believed he reached a level above. Without the beret and without the overcoat, the beauty was even clearer. Lora smiled as he ordered a drink for both to Arthur at the bar, something perhaps too strong for the first time she drank alcohol. The bitter taste made her twist her face in a grimace of disapproval that made him amuse himself with his naive manner.

— Oh God, this won't end well.

An older woman passed by the couple and looked at the londoner with disapproval, certainly because she didn't recognize Loraine from any high-ranking family and seemed too intimate with Shelby to do so.

— You shouldn't be seen with someone like me in an event like this, mr Shelby.

She denigrated her own image and Thomas cared so little about it, taking a sip of his drink and then lighting a cigarette, really unconcerned with others.

— I know you're new, so let me tell you something. I walk with whoever I want in these streets and no one has the right to tell me anything. Except Polly, but it's not like I listen to what she says. But you didn't hear me say that, eh?

He blinked at the girl and she was entertained by his words, drinking more (maybe faster than she should), the heat starting to rise to her cheeks that turned slightly red.

— Does that mean that you want me?

— Maybe.

She might have looked at him now with a slightly more silly, aerial look lost in thoughts that were arising due to drinking. Lora bit her lower lip lightly, her gaze admiring his.

— You look handsome, mr Shelby...

— Really?

Tommy asked, but he was really just wanting to see how far the girl, clearly beginning to get drunk, would go with the compliments.

— When did your eyes get so blue? — the smile came easy when he had the eyes, inherited from his mother, so unashamedly exalted.

— Gift from my mother. She used to say that it was a gypsy spell she made so that my eyes were the color of late afternoon sky of the day I was born.

— So a gypsy put a spell on you? Are you charmed like a prince charming type of thing?

— Oh, I'm no prince and you already know that.

— And I'm no lady so... I'll keep your secret if you keep mine.

He came closer to break the distance she had created when felt intimidated by a bourgeois guest, not long reaching the area of her face where the cut was almost healed. His thumb brushed her cheek — blushed for many reasons — the alcohol and his proximity were two.

— Is it hurting?

— No, is fine now. I just hope I still look pretty for you.

— You look beautiful. For me and anyone who sets eyes on you tonight.

— Then you tell them only you can set eyes on me tonight, mr Shelby.

Thomas liked the statement, but he was focused on taking advantage of her lack of censorship to rip off precious information about how the baker would have gotten that wound.

— Tell me about these cut, Lora — didn't use authoritarianism, only showed himself interested.

— I just... Look, I just have to pay my debts, but please... It's a party. I don't want to bother you with my boring life.

— Debts? Who does the girl owe money to, hm?

— A doctor. For medical expenses of an emergency appointment. It's a high amount, he came to collect and I didn't had. So he punished me. Please, forget it... I don't want you to get involved in this. I don't want you to get hurt.

Thomas administered all the information collected by Loraine's confession. He was surprised she had made medical debts with his care, now knew his true identity and yet had not sought him to handle that specific payment.

He also found, at the very least, comical the unnecessarily way she cared, trying to protect him from this doctor to whom she owed — which, by the way, she didn't tell the identity (but he would to find out soon enough).

Lora set the now empty glass on the bar counter. The alcohol already messing with your senses, officially.

The alcohol, unfortunately, didn't allow her to filter out the information she provided to Thomas and not wanting to provide more of her secrets, she took Shelby's hands and placed around her waist.

— Would you dance with me?

Rested her forearms on his shoulders so she could then loop his neck. The expression on Wood's face could be translated in many ways, but none came close to lust or malice. Just looked like a good girl who didn't know was about to get into something bad. Her eyes might be more interested on the blinder than they should be, but they still sparkled with naivety.

And Thomas didn't understand how she worked, but he was interested. The hands near the nape of his neck caressed the area, her nails gently scraping his skin in a caress.

— I have a better idea, Lora. — he lowered his head so that his mouth was close to her ear — Let's go to my place, shall we?

His lips so close to her ear, hot breath touching her skin, she could not resist shuddering in reflex. In response she tenderly kissed the Thomas' earlobe. Her hands slid down his shoulders, then arms, reaching for the hand where she laced fingers before pulling him toward the exit.

Outside the Garrison, the cold breeze cut the couple against their hot bodies before protected by the heat inside the bar and heated by their own drink. Loraine took a deep breath for the first time, not hurrying to turn to face him, pulling close again. Her face had an expression that seemed to need confirmation he wanted that end for both of them.

— I don't think I'm your type of girl, mr Shelby.

— You have no clue about my type of girl, Lora.

There was a certain contrast between the intoxicating desire to be with him with the, also existing, immaculate personality of the baker. Again she looked lost in his eyes, but now she wanted to dive into them. Stood on tiptoe when she wanted to bring the face close enough to touch the tip of her nose, which was beginning to freeze from the autumn weather, on his. Lora smiled, shy, but unprepared to put a stop to her bold actions.

Bit her lower lip before drawing them close to his, without touching it (yet), but allowing his warm breath to blend with Thomas's.

— I'm so yours.

Finally let her mouth brush against his, superficially, without actually kissing. Could only feel their skin touching each other, the taste of one staying on the other in a deliciously torturous lightness.

Loraine bit, very delicately, his lower lip before let go, and she herself let out a soft moan. She didn't know how much longer she could control herself close to him.

— I know, dear.

 _ **To be continued...  
**_ _

 **Author's note:**

Have you ever seen a girl get drunk so quickly? Well, for the sake of the story, it had to happen. But rest your heart, she's not crazy-drunk and Thomas is a gentleman, although I won't give any spoilers. I'll only say... Next chapter isn't full +18, but it's pretty close to. I'm happy with the story, thank you for the stars, hope to see you guys really soon. Love, x.


	5. I'm afraid you're not going anywhere

_Chapter 5 — i'm afraid you're not going anywhere  
_ **Philomena Milagros | peakyme**

Their mouths timidly touched and the blinder knew he was dealing with an innocent.

Even though she was somewhat drunk, in her actions there was curiosity — the way her hands rested gently on his chest, her eyes fixed on his; trying to understand what kind of animal he was, what his true intentions were.

But that wasn't how things worked in the real world for Thomas. He touched her face bringing her close again, their lips finally meeting unceremoniously; his hands searched and drowned in the girl's hair still kissing as if their mouths were alive, full of living movements and confused feelings. Both trying to understand the essence of all that desire. Loraine liked the taste of his mouth mingling with hers. The alcohol, the tobacco... The feeling of being his, even if only in that instant. Everything turned the kiss into something singular in the eyes of the girl, until then, innocent.

He finally bit her lower lip subtly, sure that the pain was sweet, and they both took the next seconds to catch their breath. The man put the beret in his overcoat pocket, taking the girl's hand and making his way home.

[...] As Thomas closed the bedroom door he turned to the girl undoing her coat slowly as they both seemed to have difficulty keeping their mouths away from each other. He threw the piece on a chair and then got rid of his suit, waistcoat, ledding her slowly with his own body to the bed and, not long after, she fell giving a short and nervous giggle.

Thomas followed her by falling on top of the girl who spread her legs to accommodate him better and he went, always automatic, on her neck region between the ear and the jaw, giving moist kisses while the girl stroked his hair, probably uncertain of what she should do.

But that didn't bother him at all — her sweet innocence.

Shelby continued to kiss her now rising to her delicate face and tasting her lips again, feeling her breath, thirsting to have her. With a sigh as their mouths drew back, Thomas took a moment to free himself from his blouse lifting his body as he took it off and Loraine made the move to sit on the bed, her small curious hands longing to touch Thomas's naked abdomen, escaping from being trapped against the bed.

But he noticed and kept her from getting up.

— Oh no, dear. I'm afraid you're not going anywhere.

He kissed the brunette and made her lie down again on the bed flabbergasted by her silly chaste smile without the least notion of what was about to happen, although one of her legs was touching the man provocatively. His right hand went automatic and suggestive to the girl's leg, rising, pulling the dress up until touched her underwear; his fingers were curious but delicate as he explored the girl while still kissing her soft lips, listening to her gasp almost exploding in a torpor to possess her.

Thomas shifted positions, now he sat her down on his lap and bent his head briefly as she settled there without any ceremony over his trousers. He stroke her face, but he hand soon went down to her dress handle, lowering the piece sufficiently to reveal her breast that fit in the palm of his hand, of splendidly rosy beak, as of a virgin in painting. Loraine was simply moving her hips slowly in a sinuous way, running her short nails into his back; as she felt Shelby suck her nipple until it hardened in his mouth and then he touched it between his fingers, playing with it.

— Take me, mr Shelby.

— What did you say, dear?

He stopped absolutely everything he was doing, still panting, looking at the innocent piece in front of him - never touched before. His consciousness by a thread. He was ready to fuck her, that was for sure, but he took note of the disaster of the scenario where they were — the clothes thrown all over, the fact that she would remember nothing of it the next day — and the sum of the variables didn't please him. It could, on another night, with another woman. But not with that one, in particular.

He couldn't do it. And hated himself for it, as he ran hands through his hair in an obvious gesture of nervousness. Loraine noticed the change of behavior.

— What's wrong? You don't want me?

Thomas gave a disgruntled sigh to himself, as he lifted the strap of her gown covering her properly, even though giving affectionate kisses over her bare shoulder.

— More than anything in this moment. Believe me, dear.

But not like that. Not in those circumstances. Nor did he know for sure why this was important at the moment, but he followed his instincts. He picked her up and placed her on one side of the bed, resting her head on the pillow, covering her with a comfortable blanket. The londoner looked confused, but the alcohol did not allow her to have a continuous line of thought, so being comfortably placed on the bed made her instantly sleepy. She nestled there.

Thomas lay down beside her, seeming to disagree completely with the idea of not having sex, because he wanted her, but he didn't see them doing it that way so he agreed to settle for the fact that nothing would happen. He folded his arms in irritation.

Loraine searched his body on the bed, her legs wrapping around his, head using his chest like a pillow as she hugged him unfolding his arms - all in attempt to use his warmth in her favor.

— You're so warm... — she pointed out sweetly, taking advantage of his lifted head for a quick kiss on the chin of the blinder. He finally let the calm talk over, remembering in a last moment of lucidity that he hadn't thought of Grace. That reassured him as he looked at the girl, clutching lips to her forehead.

— Go to sleep, little sheep.

well, that was an evening with an unexpected almost nostalgic ending, for sure.

[...] The blinder woke practically with the sun, hours later. Automatically felt the heat of the girl's body next to his, one of her legs trailing across his body; they had spent the night together (even if the outcome was not the favorite for his opinion), right?

It was funny that the girl was inside his house, specifically the bedroom. There had been chapters like this in a distant past, but it had been a broken habit over the years. He looked at the sleeping girl beside him and shook his head, staring at the ceiling of the simple low room still in denial at the thought that he and Loraine hadn't fucked at his choice - something quite unusual; perhaps even unprecedented.

Leaving Lora sleeping, the man briefly pushed the blankets away before rising from the bed admiring her expression, rested and unconcerned, as if the girl had no business to do that morning. — _I believe that we won't have any bread for breakfast..._

In a low tone he remarked sarcastically as getting dressed, leaving the baker alone in his quarters.

As descended the stairs, Thomas was already hearing voices, and his eyebrows gathered as he wanted to hear the subject of the conversation better, meeting the whole family sitting at the breakfast table.

— Good morning. — he spoke pulling a chair as each muttered a different greeting to gradually return to the previous conversation.

— So... last night was fun as fuck, right boys? — John was smiling in a malicious way while Thomas open the paper to read the news.

— Where were you, Tommy? You left early... I didn't see you for the toast.

— Fucking, Arthur. — he lied, but resembling a recurring Shelby habit no one seemed to dispute the issue — And where's Polly?

— I don't know, maybe same as you, brother... fucking somebody. — John answered in the company of Esme, his gracious wife who now lived there with them.

Thomas pretended he didn't care, but knew his aunt was not in her best days; the matter to deal with her was, now, unavoidable.

— Arthur, do something for me today, ey? — the leader asked taking a bite of a toast — I want you to meet a friend of mine, alright? I have business here. And take Ada with you.

— Me? — asked the sister who had been quiet until then.

— Yes, Ada. Arthur has something to show you, okay?

Thomas Shelby stood up after having all the tasks delegated and apparently accepted since there had been no objections. Hoped Arthur would be careful to take Ada first to get to know her knew house before dealing with Alfie Solomons. Even if he wasn't in accordance to her stupid ideology, still didn't want to involve her in the middle of his business.

He, then, walked back to the office because other business needed to be handled.

[...] Lora took a few more hours to be awake by the outside light that entered the room through a crack in the window curtains. The annoyance made her stick her face into the pleasant perfumed pillow, she'd discovered in time to be Tommy's scent.

Her head ached lightly, with a few twinges of what would have been a first hangover in style. The dry mouth was uncomfortable and to quench her thirst she felt the bedside table by the bed with one hand, looking for a glass of water she usually left in the room back at her home but eventually knocked over an empty ashtray.

The sound of the object reaching the floor made her wake up for good, sitting on the bed, hands rubbing at her weary eyes. A yawn and then a peculiar remark to the robes in her little body, covered by the fine pieces.

She pulled the bedclothes to cover her lap, looking around, afraid there would be someone else taking advantage of your intimate moment - however, she was alone. Loraine ran her hand over the forehead with a long sigh as tried to remember last night that still came to mind in flashes out of order.

In an armchair just beside the bed the red dress was noticed.

The re-opening of The Garrison suddenly came to mind. Got out of bed to change into her clothes, but broke off as she noticed a men's shirt hanging from the arm of the chair. Forgot the gown on the ground just to hold the shirt inhands approaching the white-collar to her face, inspiring the fragrance.

"Mr Shelby."

The headache seemed to increase gradually and, without thinking, she wore the shirt that covered only the beginning of her turned thighs leaving the legs in view as part of the black garter belt.

Ran her hands through her hair in a clear gesture of nervousness wondering, in mind, what time it would be. Heard a noise from outside the room, becoming distracted again about her morning priorities, driven by curiosity.

She opened the door with no intention of making a noise only leaving the room when sure to be alone. On tiptoe, she stepped past a wall of family photos and only needed a few to feel the palpitations in her heart as realized she was at the Shelby's house.

Lora put her small hands in front the lips in surprise, wanting to understand how she would have ended there. Hearing a sound from another part of the house, she followed it on her tiptoe, cautious, until found a half-open door from where could heard the clear voice of Thomas Shelby ending a telephone call.

The girl entered with her mouth slightly open through which she breathed, nervously.

— (...) Oh, alright. I get it, I get it. Could you send me those files? Thank you mr. Doyle, I appreciate that... you too, have a good day.

— Did you kidnap me?

The brunette only waited for him to finish the call to finally speak, breaking the second of silence by drawing attention to her figure standing in the doorway, wearing a crumpled shirt of his, the unkempt curls looking impossible to tamper with. The londoner still held her hand to her temples, massaging with her fingers, part of herself wishing all that was just a bizarre dream.

— No, yesterday you asked for an enchanted prince, lady Lora. Good morning. — he spoke with humorous irony offering the chair for her to sit down, noticing her every move there in the office wearing his rumpled shirt and with her shaggy hair.

— Then why I got a big bad wolf instead? — her arms crossed her breasts in a defensive posture, trying not to be hypnotized by Shelby's gaze so she could hold a high-level conversation with him while he let himself smile at the woman's gaudy manners — W-What am I doing here...? — adding 1+1: her dress tucked in the armchair next to Thomas's clothes, she began to explore the possibility that the couple had had a very unique and intimate evening

— Did I...? I mean, did you...? Actually, did we...? — she looked confused, not knowing how to put the words properly.

Thomas simply lit a cigarette quite calmly with the girl's question after all he thought her clothes were already answering what she was doing there. And then the Shelby could see the confusion in the girl's eyes, the shock, and finally the doubt verbally shamefaced. — No, we didn't fuck last night.

Simply replied, after all Tommy wasn't known for his subtlety. Loraine finally allowed herself to sit down, a little more relieved than before and he continued:

— Yet. — the blinder rose from the chair, walked around the table approaching the lady sitting, facing him bewildered. Then, brought his face close to speak near her ear pulling the curly brown hair back slowly, left hand wandering the neck to caress her jaw — But, we will. Eventually, when you aren't drunk.

Loraine stared at him suddenly with a look of embarrassment — noticeable by the automatic blush cheeks. The cunning approach served to incite a slight tachycardia in the girl which allowed her breath to break, panting.

She kept her gaze locked on the Shelby in the intention to provide a legitimate expression that she wouldn't fall for the (possibly irresistible) charm of the man, but felt like was failing after hearing his thick voice so close to her ear bringing scattered memories from the night before into the still labyrinthine mind. Memories of the touches in her body so realistic that caused a series of shivers.

She closed her eyes trying to maintain serious.

— What makes you think I want to fuck you?

There was no audible response. Thomas cared only to feel the velvety texture of the baker's skin, fingers digging into the strands of messy hair. Not listening to his voice in reply, Lora opened eyes searching for his blue ones.

— _Mist-_

But he shut her up calmly taking her lips in a gentle kiss at first to, finally, open their mouths slowly - tongues meeting unhurriedly. As in an enchantment the kiss made her calm instantly; that sassy morning personality seemed to vanish. Tommy pushed his face away but kept it close enough to admire the girl's almond-colored iris, their breaths crashing into each other.

— Good morning, mr Shelby...

The female voice came out sweet as if the morning had only really begun after that moment between the two making he twist the corner of his lip in a tiny, yet noticeable, smile.

— Good morning, lady Lora... I'm afraid I have things to do, so go home. I'll meet you later... this afternoon at the bakery. — he instructed, six octaves lower than legally allowed, running hand through her hair.

Lora nodded agreeing both had things to be done; the bakery was waiting for her and the peaky blinders had business. She rose from the chair and stood in front of the man - barefoot, looking much smaller than last night - as he leaned back against the office table.

The londoner bit the lower lip, seeming to mentally ponder her next actions.

— Would you help me remember last night, first...? — the blinder tilted head a little to the right unsure of what she meant while staring his eyes, but she knew she could not continue her actions if looking at him, so she gripped Thomas's forearm by sliding her hand until it met his and then guided to her thighs.

As soon as felt the touch on her skin she closed eyes bit the lower lip more strongly this time being guided by a desire that was incompatible with her angelic personality, but which consumed her.

He dragged his fingertips practically automatically to the inner part of the thigh, up the groin and led into the underwear, her mouth letting out a tiny sigh while he was delighted with the sensation of subverting that adorable and, apparently, untouched body.

Loraine pressed his fingers gently rocking her hips to match the two movements until she felt wet and hot with friction. Tommy inhaled silently satisfied with that little game, staring at her hypnotized by the defiant actions of the immaculate girl that now officially demonstrated to possess a list of secret desires (no longer so secret).

— Thank you for bringing me home safely, mr Shelby. — between sighs she gathered an unimaginable strength to be able to put an end to that caress, otherwise wouldn't know where it could take them.

He was awakened by her who pulled his hand subtly from the middle of her legs, saying something he paid no attention to and at the moment, frankly, did not seem interested thinking only how much she would have gotten wet in those short seconds.

The baker (which was mentally described by Shelby as _a fantastic paradox between an angelic being who shouldn't be touched and a woman of desires to be fulfilled_ ) turned back on him without saying another word — which wasn't necessary, anyway — and closed the door softly, letting a smiling Thomas behind, slamming his wet fingers over his lips thoughtfully, in a sudden good humor right before going back to business.

Lora closed the door behind her and leaned back at it, discredit of the events of seconds ago. Still felt wet and excited, but began to think that Thomas Shelby was a bad influence and hurried to leave that accursed place after dressing up completely and putting her things together.

[...] Back at her bakery, she paced the front of the stove looking genuinely uneasy about meeting with Shelby that afternoon. If she wasn't biting the lower corner of her lip, then was waving her hands impatiently, repeating the sermon inside her head with shaken and disheveled thoughts. Sometimes would bring her hands up to the curls, running fingers through the strands of hair, in a very clear gesture of nervousness.

Slid the tip of her forefinger between the lips, biting her fingertips as time passed in a mix of anxiety and tension because of the last memories with Shelby. Facing any fixed point, the images of memories crossed before her eyes like a choppy film, full of flaws. Thomas nuzzling her neck, pinning her down on the bed, lowering the strap of her dress... Lora closed eyes quickly, interrupting the continuation, resting her hips on the counter.

She was bothered that Thomas's presence made her destabilize - occasionally only the act of thinking about him made her mad with a series of daydreams that shivered her whole body, resulting in inconvenient sighs.

All thoughts fade away when the brunette was surprised by the sound of the front door of the bakery being opened and the image of a small boy seeming uncertain about entering.

— I came here for Tommy.

Wood looked disappointed with the information; so now he was sending his underage lackeys to exchange errands? Couldn't he do it for himself? No, of course not. Not now that he considered her a filthy whore.

— 'Course you did. Come in, it's cold outside... — she took a deep breath, faintly hiding her irritation as she grabbed a cloth and removed the loaves from the oven allowing the appetizing scent to permeate the air. The boy stood for a little longer near the door, apprehensive to approach.

— He wanted me to give you this...

Finn slipped his hand into the pocket of the mini-overcoat pulling out the folded crumpled money and handed it toward the woman. Loraine drew attention from the bread she was cutting into a series of slices to get the money after wiping her dirty fingers of flour on the white apron, concentrating on counting the value sent, with a rather solid expression as she considered (with no certainty, but seemed like something he would do) that Thomas Shelby was making a payment to her "scort services" for the night before and that morning.

The baker frowned angry and deciding whether to blame herself for being promiscuous or to blame him for thinking she wanted to be paid for company. It was a good amount, but what did it really mean? That Loraine Wood was an expense? An investment? ...a whore?

The little boy, whom Loraine didn't seem to realize was Thomas's younger brother, didn't care for the woman's reactions since his interest was 100% aimed at consuming a few pieces of the freshly warm cut bread with delicious scent right there in front of him.

She kept the money in her apron pocket, still deciding with some anguish whether she was angry or disappointed, but first she was going to deal with the hungry little boy in front of her.

— Wanna taste it, dear?

 **_**

 **SOONER THAT SAME DAY…  
_**

 _ **To be continued...  
**_ _

 **Author's note:**

My dearest, I'm deeply sorry took so much time to update you all. I had my exams at college and didn't have the time to write. But, I'm back and here's a sweet kinda wet but still lovely chapter for y'all. I always try to be some sort of sweet even when it gets a bit hot, mostly because of the personality of the character and also 'cause I'm not very very good at writing shit like that - which doesn't mean I don't like it, but! Anyway. I honestly hope you liked the chapter, next one starts already with a quick flashback of how Thomas is dealing with this weird "after night without sex" and why is he sending her money... Quick reminder: you can find me on tt: peakyme, send me your thoughts or comments. Love, xx.


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